out of the day, born into the night.
out of the pain, breed in the fight.
drops of the rain, no sun in our sights.

let it go.

breath out in the midst, clearing of time.
hands on the wheel, miles of lines.
the voices still, but screaming inside.

For the weeks spent wondering, for the days spent pretending.
for all the lovers that had imagined, your love having a happy ending.

I find no solace in words, I found only confusion in my sound.
I see no point in reminiscing on what can not be spoken aloud.

July 4, 1994.